You'd Better Fix It
by M.M Darling
Summary: Jasper sends a message to his father; Eleanor sends a message to her brother. But will it be enough to bring them back together? Fix-it fic for 3x06 - picks up one week after that disastrous excuse of a Christmas Eve.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I needed a fix-it fic after 3x06, and this is what came out. It picks up about a week after 3x06 and goes from there. First two chapters are light on the Jaspenor so I'll post them together. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. If I did, 3x06 would have gone a LOT differently.

* * *

Jasper and Liam surveyed each other, silently. The bodyguard knew he had no right to ask for time off after acting so haughty, but it's not like he hadn't warned Liam he was being an idiot for challenging Robert to a fight. He'd seen the bloke in the "family gym," after all.

And Liam, bloodied and battered, tried to look murderous — he'd seen the look on Eleanor's face earlier and had suspected for the past week that something had happened with the two of them, which made him even less tolerant of Jasper's "I told you so" — but instead came off as rather grumpy.

"You need to 'go away for a few days?'" the prince asked. "What about my sister?"

"She'll be fine without me," Jasper replied, trying with all his might to sound steady.

"I don't know what's going on between the two of you, but you'd better fix it."

"Are you telling me that as my boss or as my friend?"

"I'm telling you that as the brother of the girl whose heart you seem to have broken," Liam snapped, but then relented when he saw Jasper's face fall. "I'm sorry. I'm in a foul mood over the fight."

"You don't say," Jasper muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets and hoping for an immediate end to the conversation.

"I'm saying this to you as your friend AND as the brother of the girl whose heart you've hurt," Liam amended.

"Going away will fix it," Jasper said.

"You'll be back, yes?" Liam said, locking eyes with his bodyguard.

"Yes."

* * *

When Jasper stepped off the plane and into the dry Vegas heat, he still wasn't sure if he was planning on keeping his promise to Liam. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he was planning on keeping his promise to himself.

He made his way to his rental car, jammed the key into the ignition and sped off. His brain was still in a fog — as it had been since that godforsaken meeting with that godforsaken journalist — but muscle memory took over. Pretty soon, the desert dust had given way to, well, more desert dust, but in the middle of this particular patch of dust was a trailer park.

He spotted the Frost family trailer almost immediately. He put the car — a black Porsche; all the better for driving home his point — into park and grabbed the messenger bag he had thrown onto the passenger side seat. He checked to make sure the papers and the gun were securely in place, then exited the car with a decisive slam of the door.

The trailer park looked just as he remembered it: a decrepit mess littered with broken dreams. For so long, it had been a source of such shame. Jasper had been bracing himself for the shame to take over when he saw his onetime home, but now, with a plan in hand and ire in his heart, he felt ready to be done with Vegas, and his family. For good.

He took long, purposeful strides towards the Frost trailer. He knew they'd hear him. It's not often the hum of a Porsche made its way to this part of town, and even less often its occupant dared to leave the confines of the car.

Jasper smirked when he saw his dad exit the dwelling before he got within 10 feet of the place. Predictable, nosy asshole.

"Well well well, look what the cat dragged in," the elder Frost drawled.

"I'd say the same to you. You look awful, pops," Jasper replied. He wasn't wrong. In the years since he'd seen his dad, the man had grown a potbelly; his hair had dulled and lost some of its volume; his skin had become even more weathered — from the elements or the drugs, Jasper didn't know nor care to find out. "The price of selling out doesn't even cover a day at the spa?"

"What you call selling out, I call another day's work," papa Frost shot back. "And it was so easy, I'd do it again."

"No, you won't," Jasper said, pulling out his gun and leveling it as his father's chest.

"Woah woah woah, no need to escalate this," his dad replied, looking startled. "We're both Frosts; we can settle this like gentlemen."

"Gentlemen?" Jasper laughed mirthlessly. "Gentlemen? Gentlemen don't trade secrets for money. Gentlemen don't presume to speak for offspring they've long since given up on."

"Well if the ungrateful offspring weren't ungrateful and didn't give up on jobs, maybe I wouldn't give up on them," his dad said. "You've been in that place for over a year and what have you gotten for me? What have you sent home? Not a damn thing!"

"In case you've forgotten," Jasper said, coldly, "my deal was with the Cooks, and we've long settled that score. I don't owe you a damn thing. And you certainly don't deserve a damn thing. But, to ensure that once I leave you stay out of my life for good, I do have something for you today."

Jasper wished he could have recorded the way his dad's eyes lit up when he said "something for you." The greedy bastard. Always looking for the next hit, the next payload. He reached into his messenger bags and pulled out the papers.

"This right here," Jasper said, pulling out the first sheet, "is a cease-and-desist order from the palace, telling you to leave me and the royal family alone or else be extradited to the U.K. under a charge of sedition."

"Sedition?" his father asked, but Jasper wan't in an explaining mood.

"This paper," Jasper continued, pulling out the second sheet from the bag, "is a letter of refutation that you will sign right now. It says that you lied to the press in order to make a quick buck; the latest in a long line of money laundering schemes."

"You really have lost your mind," the elder Frost said. "You can't make me sign that."

"Oh yes, I can," Jasper replied. "Because for my grand finale, I have this," he said, reaching into his bag and brandishing the third part of his paper pack — which was the rest of the stack.

"This right here," Jasper explained, "is your criminal history. It's every joint you've robbed, every person you've ripped off and every con you've run. And I happen to know the Las Vegas PD would LOVE some new reading material."

"You can't prove that's real," his father retorted. "And I can just say it's the rantings of my brainwashed, Brit-loving son."

"Actually, I've had it verified and signed by MI6, the British CIA, so you'd be wise not to test me," Jasper said, smirking as his dad's complexion paled.

Jasper waited a beat, and slung a pen and the second paper to his dad. "Sign it," he ordered.

"Whatever, it's not like I want anything to do with you anyway," d muttered as he scribbled his signature on the letter that refuted everything he'd told the hussy of a reporter. When he was done, he pressed the paper back into Jasper's chest without making eye contact with his son.

"Good. Now here's your cease and desist order," Jasper said, handing his father the first paper he'd brought out. "Lest you destroy it, do remember that we keep copies at the palace. And that all members of royal security and MI5 and MI6 have been informed of who you are and what you may try. So don't try."

"This little act of yours is almost convincing. I heard that voicemail you left me on Christmas. Whatever damage you're trying to undo is already done," his father sneered. "Your life is ruined, and so is hers, I'd imagine. Which is good enough for me."

Jasper's veins, which were already coursing with anger, pulsed with fresh fury. His left hand gripped his Glock, which he willed himself not to use.

"And your life has never been anything BUT ruin," Jasper spat. "Enjoy hell."

With that, Jasper spun on his heels and stalked back to the car. Once securely in the Porsche — which had darkened windows — he took a deep breath and picked up his phone.

"It's done.'

"Good," came James Hill's voice on the other end. "I can send in phase 2?"

"Yes. Don't forget to have them take photos."

"Of course. You're on your way back?"

Jasper paused. The next part was the hard part. Facing her. The far easier thing would be to send his dad's statement back by mail, or scanner, and stay in the U.S. He'd forget her and she'd forget him, and it'd be like nothing ever happened.

The thought made his stomach turn.

"Of course."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm envisioning this happening while Jasper is in Vegas. So this is a "meanwhile, in the palace" chapter. Disclaimer: characters not mine!

* * *

"Eleanor, open up!" Robert called, rapping on the princess' door. He'd hardly seen her since he announced the charity fight with Liam, something he initially passed off as part of "twin code" or whatever. But then that story on D-Throned dropped and she'd seemingly upped the silent treatment, which just about convinced the prince that his sister had figured out how the article had originated.

Robert leaned his ear against the door, but heard nothing. "Lenny? Please? I have a fun event for you to do. It's a fashion charity!"

The prince waited a beat, and when he didn't even hear so much as a groan, he forced his way through.

Eleanor was curled up in bed, makeup smeared across her face and a vodka bottle tucked under her elbow. She wasn't giving him the silent treatment; she was still passed out from the night before.

"Eleanor!" Robert yelped, using a high enough decibel that it broke through his sister's consciousness.

"Huh? Whaddyawaaaan," she mumbled, squinting up at him.

"I thought you'd moved on from the late night partying and passing out," Robert gently admonished. He ducked into her bathroom to grab a washcloth, which he proceeded to let drip on her head until she finally yanked it out of his hand.

"And I thought you'd moved on from monitoring my every move," she replied, rubbing the day-old makeup off her face.

"I'm not monitoring you," Robert said. "I'm just worried. The late nights and passing out seem to only happen when you're not happy."

"I'm fine," Eleanor said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Are you, really? You've seemed distant this past week," Robert said, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. "You don't seem yourself."

Maybe it was the pitying look he was giving her, maybe it was the pounding headache that was beginning to form, or maybe it was the fact that it had been one week and one day since Jasper had ended things and it felt like his absence was slowly eating her alive. Whatever it was, something in her snapped.

"Yeah, and how would YOU know how I am?" she said. "How would YOU know what makes me happy? You've been gone for the past year and you haven't really bothered to accept the things that changed while you were dead!"

Robert's eyes widened and his stomach dropped. Her reaction just about confirmed it: the silent treatment had been over the article, after all.

"Len, I'm sorry, I know I missed a lot, but you have to understand, the article wasn't that bad and now that it's out there we can discuss how to move forward," Robert explained, but trailed off when he saw Eleanor's face shift from rage to utter confusion.

"What in holy hell are you talking about? What does some article have to do with you not understanding what makes me happy?"

Robert swallowed. "Oh. This isn't about the article, then."

"WHAT bloody article?" Eleanor said.

Robert held up a finger, and began tapping away on phone. After about 30 seconds, he found what he was looking for. He handed the phone to his sister, and then took a step backwards. He knew he'd need to be beyond her arm's reach when she finished reading.

Eleanor looked down at the screen of the phone, which was filled with the following:

 _THE PRINCESS AND HER BODYGUARD_

 _A real-life Cinderella story is unfolding at Blenheim Palace — only, this version of the classic fairytale might be more nightmare than happily ever after._

 _Highly-placed sources at the palace confirm that Princess Eleanor Hendstridge has been seeing her bodyguard, Jasper Frost. The pairing is notable because not only is Frost not titled, but he's not British or even particularly upstanding._

 _Frost, who has been employed by the palace security forces for the past year, came to the Princess' bed by way of Las Vegas, where he and his family ran a successful robbery ring. He came to the palace to steal the Koh-I-Noor, but aborted the con when he fell in love with our Princess Eleanor._

 _"_ _Your sources have misled you," Frost told D-Throned in an interview last week. "I never have been and am not now in a relationship with the Princess." Frost declined to answer any other questions from D-Throned, but he signed an affidavit to prove the validity of his statement._

 _We think he dost protest too much: the highly placed palace source and Frost's own father deny his denial. As does this reporter. Frost, for all his biographical flaws, seems to be just Princess Eleanor's type._

"OKAY, ENOUGH!" Eleanor yelled at no one in particular, throwing the phone on her bed. Maybe the writer. There was more to the story but she had no interest in reading it.

Then she rounded on her brother.

"Are YOU the 'highly placed palace source,' Robbie?"

"Len, just hear me out," Robert began, but Eleanor did not want to hear it.

"YOU did this? You, the future KING OF ENGLAND, decided it was appropriate to go to the press and serve as a 'highly-placed palace source' on MY love life?" Eleanor's voice rose as she spoke, and pretty soon, she was full-on yelling. "HOW DARE YOU? What gives you the right to waltz back in here and upend our lives? You judge me and my relationship, you treat Liam like shit and you sell out my boyfriend — the man who FOUND OUR FATHER'S MURDERER — and sell him out to this gossip-shilling excuse for a journalist?"

"Len, please, take a breath, I can explain —"

"WHAT is going on in here?" Liam's startled voice cut through Robert's feeble attempt at placating his sister.

"Liam, this doesn't concern you," Robert scoffed at the same time as Eleanor said: "Robert sold out Jasper to the press!"

"He did WHAT?" Liam said. He used that moment to cross into Eleanor's room to quite literally take her side. He was sure to give Robert a shove as he did so.

"What, you didn't get enough the other night?" Robert sniffed.

Liam ignored his brother, and instead clasped Eleanor by her shoulders. "Seriously. What happened?"

Eleanor took a deep breath. Her mind was racing, replaying the article and the events from the past week. It was starting to add up. "It appears that ROBBIE decided the world needed to know that Jasper was not only my boyfriend, but a con artist from Las Vegas. So he leaked everything to a reporter, who must've contacted Jasper because HE had to lie to them about us NOT being together and then, to make it less of a lie, I guess, Jasper broke up with me."

"Wait, what?" Liam and Robert said at the same time.

"Oh, your reporter friend didn't tell you that, did she?" Eleanor spat, glaring at Robert. "On Christmas Eve, Jasper went from being his usual self to cold and distant. He said he couldn't be in a relationship with me." Tears stung her eyes; the memory was still too fresh and too painful.

"He was trying to protect you," Liam said.

"What kind of idiot breaks a girl's heart to protect her?" Robert asked.

"What kind of idiot tells the press about his sister's boyfriend?" Liam retorted, though secretly, he agreed that Jasper's methods were rather messed up, however noble the intention.

"Can you both just stop for one bloody minute?" Eleanor groaned, rubbing her temples. She was really, really starting to regret the prior night's bingeing. "Your pissing contest can wait. I need one of you to tell me where Jasper is. I need to see him."

Liam looked startled. "He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Eleanor said, her heart sinking.

"He went to Vegas."

"Why? For what?"

"All he said was that he was fixing things. But he promised me he'd come back."

"He better come back. And in one piece. If I know him at all I'd bet he went to confront that wanker of a father of his, which means until he is back on this property, he is not safe," Eleanor said. The she turned to her long-lost brother.

"I don't care what your birthright suggests, and I don't care that you came back from the dead. If Jasper doesn't come back unharmed, I'm holding you responsible."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for all the kind feedback on the first two chapters! I appreciate it :-) I should have said this upfront: I intended for this to be a short little ditty, so this installment will likely be the last. I have a feeling that tonight's episode will inspire a whole new round of anger/agony that will be in need of remedying... sigh. But, until then (or more likely, if you're reading this after then), here's the final installment for my version of what *should* happen after 3x06. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: Nope, characters not mine. Just borrowing them from some evil minds.

* * *

Jasper's phone buzzed just as he boarded the plane. He looked at the caller I.D. and picked up without a greeting.

"Is it done?"

"Yes. I've sent the photo to your mobile," James Hill replied.

Jasper pulled the phone away from his ear to see the screen. Sure enough, the photo evidence of the physical message the palace gave to his dad got through loud and clear. His eye, in particular, seemed to have received the brunt of the "message."

Jasper nodded imperceptibly, as if to reassure himself that he had done everything he could to remove his family from his life — and make sure they knew they'd been removed. "Thank you," he said.

"You've made bigger asks," James replied. "This was at least well within the bounds of my job description."

Jasper wanted to laugh at the memory of James Hill ghost-writing a love letter to Eleanor, but everything about the princess felt too painful to bear. Even though he was trying to right the situation, the fact remained that he had broken up with her. And it was feeling hard to appreciate past good in the face of present bad.

"Listen, while I have you," James said, cutting into Jasper's inner monologue, "there's something you should know."

"What happened to her?"

"Well nothing happened TO her, per se, but the short version of the story is that she ripped His Royal Highness Prince Robert a new one for leaking your story to the press."

"What the hell is the long version?" Jasper yelped. The heads of a few nearby passengers whipped around (he was flying commercial, of course), so he ducked his head and lowered his voice. "What is going on over there?"

"You know most of it. The story about your relationship with the pricess ran right about as you took off for Vegas. Robert was the source the reporter used to get to you and your dad. Eleanor had no idea, but Robert accidentally told her," James said. "Eleanor, as you know, is smart. She figured everything else out."

"And by everything you mean…?"

"The motivation behind your ill-conceived breakup. Which, by the way, have I yet asked you: what kind of idiot breaks a girl's heart to try to protect her?"

"Yes, you have. Twice," Jasper grumbled, picturing the aghast look that had crossed James' face when he'd explained everything and informed his boss of the Vegas plan. Before Jasper could say more, a stewardess appeared and motioned for him to hang up the phone. "Gotta go. See you in 18 hours."

"Use that time wisely, Mr. Frost," James warned. "Eleanor's going to need one hell of an apology."

* * *

 _18 hours later_

Eleanor was pacing her room. She never paced. But James had told her Jasper was landing at 9:30am and her stupid body woke her up at 8:00, and all she could seem to do was pace.

"This is ridiculous. I should eat breakfast," she said to herself. But her stomach flipped at the thought of eating a single crumb, and she was reminded that she was too nervous to do anything other than pace.

She was angry at Jasper, yes, but as she paced, the overwhelming emotion she felt was fear. Fear that he'd come back having injured himself doing something brave. Fear that what they had before Christmas couldn't be reignited. And above all, fear that he actually meant those awful things he said to her that day.

Eleanor wasn't sure how much longer she'd been pacing when she heard two small knocks on the door. She released the breath she'd been holding; it had to be him. She patted her hair, quietly cleared her throat, and then said, "come in."

Jasper cracked open one of her two French doors, apprehension etched across his face. "It's me," he said. "Still want me to come in?"

"Yes," Eleanor said. She didn't elaborate; she didn't really trust herself to say much of anything at the moment. She was awash in relief that he hadn't gotten himself killed in Vegas and anxiety that he was here to put the final stake in their relationship.

Jasper slipped over the threshold, then turned to shut the door. He took a deep breath, and then swiveled back to face Eleanor.

"Eleanor, I am so damn sorry," he began. "There's so much I need to tell you but before I get to any of that you need to know that I am so sorry. I never should have said those things to you on Christmas. I didn't mean a single word of it."

"Then why did you say it?" Eleanor asked, her voice barely audible. She hugged her arms to herself, trying to provide the comfort that his apology had not quite conferred.

"Because I was dumb. Because I believed I wasn't good enough. I believed, deep down, that I am not worthy of being in your life, and that all I'm ever going to do is bring you down," he said.

"But I already told you that's rubbish! Did you not believe ME when I said that you're perfect for me, as I am for you?" Eleanor cried.

"I thought I did, but then that journalist started asking me questions about you, started saying things about me, and I just thought, 'if this is how she sees it, this is how she'll write it. And if this is how she writes it, this is how everyone will read it. It'll never go away,'" Jasper said. He dropped his head in shame. "I figured your life would be better off without me in it."

"Did you even think about what I might want? That I might not agree that my life is 'better off' without you in it?" Eleanor shot back.

"Does that even matter? Robert hates me. If he becomes king, we never get sanctioned. For as long as we're together, you'll live your life in constant scandal. It'll be like Wallis Simpson, but worse!" Jasper said, his voice escalating as he spoke.

"But it was MY choice, too!" Eleanor said.

"I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Eleanor studied him, but didn't say anything. Jasper used her silence as an opportunity to pull a piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

"I have something for you. Two things, actually. The first is a written statement from my father, attesting that he was paid in order to provide false commentary to the press," Jasper said, handing her the statement. "I made him sign it. You can use it to refute the article that came out last week, or at least sow doubt in the validity of the report. It'll help protect your reputation."

Eleanor's eyes darted over the page, taking in the words Jasper had no doubt threatened and bullied out of his dad. Her eyes stilled over the part of the statement that confessed to a long history of money laundering schemes.

"If we use this," she said slowly, "the world may not know about us but they'll know everything about your past. I thought you wanted to keep that hidden?"

"I did. But if this past week has taught me anything, it's that I'm not my father. I would never turn on my son and leave him with no choice but to give up the love of his life. I would never cause family pain in return for money," Jasper said, gaining momentum as he spoke. "I went to Vegas to get that signed, but I also went to Vegas to put my family behind me. I'm done with them, for good. I am not them. So I don't care who knows about them, or my upbringing. It's not who I am."

Eleanor stared at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. "So if you know that's not who you are, how can you still think you're not good enough for me? Is this all just one big ruse so you don't have to say that I'M not good enough for YOU?"

Jasper had been standing several feet away from the princess, but the pain in her voice propelled him to her. He crossed the distance, put his hands on her upper arms and tried to look her square in the eye. When she stared determinedly at the floor, he took his hand and used it to tilt her chin up.

"Eleanor, listen to me. I'm the biggest screw-up there is, but you are perfect. You are more than I ever dreamed for. You make me feel like the luckiest, happiest guy in the entire world. And I may have ruined us, but none of this will never change how deeply I have fallen in love with you."

Eleanor inhaled sharply. Had she not spent the better part of the last week thinking that it was her confession of love that drove Jasper away, she might have returned the sentiment. But as it were, all she was able to manage in reply was, "you said you had two things for me?"

"Er, right," Jasper said, reaching into his jacket to pull out something he'd tucked inside of it, under his arm. "It's your Christmas gift," he said. He handed her the illustrations he'd made with Sara Alice, and then took a small step back so she'd have room to read it.

"I thought you said you didn't get me anything?" Eleanor said. She sounded genuinely confused.

"I lied. I needed you to believe what I was saying so that you wouldn't guess that something else was up. That a journalist was onto us," he said. "It was the only thing I could think to do."

"I don't think you did much thinking," Eleanor muttered as she opened the homemade book. She smiled when she saw Sara Alice's handiwork, and then laughed aloud when she got to the drawing of Frosty the Caterpillar. "Does Frosty have scoliosis?" she said, showing Jasper the page with the rather crooked-looking caterpillar.

Jasper smirked, but decided not to tell her he'd said the same thing.

Eleanor's expressions changed with each page — surprise here, mirth there — but by the time she got to the end of the story - where Frosty realized that the princess loved him anyway - a lump had begun to form in her throat. When she flipped to the last page and saw the Frosty and the princess holding hands and the propped-up necklace box, tears pooled in her eyes. She looked up at Jasper, who was wearing a remarkably similar expression.

They stayed that way for a solid minute. Jasper was the one to break the trance.

"Anyway," he coughed. "That's what I wanted to give you. And say to you. I'm so sorry, Eleanor. I hope you can one day forgive me."

He started to make his way to the door, but Eleanor cleared her throat to summon him back — as she'd done a million times before. "Don't you want to help me put on my necklace, bodyguard?" she asked, emphasizing the last word.

Jasper spun around, stunned. Was she forgiving him? He couldn't tell, but he wasn't going to start quizzing her now. He picked up the necklace — a delicate, dark little number that she could wear with anything — and draped it around her neck. As he secured the clasp, one of his fingers grazed the back of her neck. Electricity shot through her skin, inspiring a crop of goosebumps. He lingered a moment, then moved away. Eleanor turned around to face him.

"How do I look?"

"Like a princess," Jasper breathed. It did not escape her that he was staring at her with unadulterated adoration - much as he'd always done. It was a look that couldn't be faked. A look she had longed to see for the better part of the past nine days. And it was exactly what she needed to see.

Eleanor jumped forward, capturing Jasper's lips in a bruising kiss. He was tentative at first, but as she increased her grip on his shirt and leaned into him harder, he deepened the kiss. When they finally stopped, they both were gasping for air.

"I love you, too, you know," Eleanor said, replying to his two previous references to loving her. "Or perhaps I should drop the 'too,' as I technically _was_ the one to say it first."

Jasper's eyes widened. The kiss had been surprising enough; hearing her reiterate her declaration of love almost made him pinch himself. This felt too good to be actually happening. He closed his mouth, searching for words, then opened it again. No sound came out.

Eleanor smirked. "A word of advice: this isn't the best moment to stand there with your mouth open."

"You take my breath away, you know that?" Jasper said.

"Of course," she said, dragging a finger down his chest, just to tease him. "Maybe you should try taking mine away."

"Your wish is my command, princess," Jasper said, leaning in to kiss her. Eleanor responded enthusiastically, kissing him with vigor and slowly pushing him towards her bed. When the backs of his legs hit her bed-frame, he pulled away from her face — just by a few inches — to ask her the question that had been burning his brain. "Why do you keep forgiving me?"

"I told you never to give up on me," Eleanor said, smiling. "The least I could do is never give up on us."

*fin*


End file.
